Bound DISCONTINUED! BEING REWRITTEN!
by BoredomIsAnUnderstatement
Summary: When Robin finds himself trapped in a jungle with Slade, neither knowing where they are, trouble could arise as they find that they can't get away from each other and start feeling what the other feels...both physically AND emotionally. Slash, multi-chap.
1. Help and Discovery

**TT Story: **_**Bound**_

**Chapter One:**** Help and Discovery**

**Disclaimer:**** No, I do NOT own the Teen Titans. Sadness! *pouts***

**A.N.:**** YOU **_**MUST **_**READ THE SECOND A.N. AT THE BOTTOM, OKAY?! IF YOU DON'T, YOU SHALL PERISH!!! (probably.)**

**---**

Robin's eyes fluttered open and he stared at the green, leafy canopy above. Then he grabbed the back of his head and writhed onto his side, almost shouting as sudden agony snapped into his head; it felt as if his skull had been cracked open with a rock. But when he pulled his hands away from where the wound felt it should have been, he didn't see any blood. He couldn't even feel a bruise. The pain was just…_there_ somehow, tingling the backside of his mind. He turned over onto his back again, trying to figure out where he was. The humidity of the air and the denseness of the trees surrounding him said that he must have been in a jungle or a rainforest somewhere. Though where that somewhere _was_, exactly, he had no idea.

A painful-sounding groan suddenly resounded around the clearing that he was in, jerking Robin from his thoughts as he whipped towards his other side to see who - or _what_ - had made the noise. Then, his heart stopped cold as he saw who it was, instantly sitting up in shock. Of anyone in the whole world that he could've seen, he just _had_ to see _him_. But something was wrong with the scene before him.

Slade was lying on his back three feet away, his single eye closed tight, his hands creating holes into the dirt at his sides as they fisted and reopened again and again. One leg was bent upwards, as if he had tried to stand but couldn't, and his body was lying perfectly still. A low, hissing din came from his mouth through his mask, his chest rising and falling heavily against the intense heat of the area. But what disturbed Robin the most was the strange, sickening smell to the wet air, and it was coming from a large and ever-growing pool of Slade's blood that sat at his head.

Robin's breath caught in his throat, almost choking - no, _drowning_ - him as he looked upon his injured foe. For years, he had wanted to inflict this kind of pain onto him, but now that he was actually able to see how it would affect Slade, he wasn't sure if he still wanted to. The boy also quickly gathered that he hadn't been noticed yet, and probably wouldn't be for a while. But the throbbing ache in his own head didn't _want _to be ignored and decidedly made him gasp out loud as it self-intensified, and Slade's eye finally burst open as he looked wildly around to see the Titan. Then, just as he glared at Robin, another wave of pain must have abruptly overtook him as his hands tightened in the ground and a thunderous moan escaped him.

Robin didn't like seeing Slade like this. Actually, he hated it. Slade was supposed to be powerful, commanding, pain-resisting, and evil, not _this_. No, never this. This Slade was the exact _opposite_; weak, defenseless, in dire need of help, and…not _good _per say, but not _bad_ either. Not even remotely.

"R-Robin…" he said unexpectedly, which caught the boy off guard, "I n-need you t-to…" he winced even harder, as if his words were causing him pain. Robin did _not_ like where he felt this was going. This could _not_ be the real Slade! He would never ask for help, especially not from his arch-enemy! What was _wrong_ with him?! "…y-you need to-to…h--"

"I'll try calling for help," Robin cut him off, not wanting to hear the words probably just as much as Slade didn't want to say them. He didn't want to aid him, but in this situation, he really didn't have much of a choice. He was a hero, after all.

Taking out his communicator, he flipped it open and waited for one of his teammates to respond. It took about a minute or so, but eventually, Beast Boy's face swam into view on the screen. "Beast Boy! Thank God! I thought I might not reach anyone! Quick, go get Raven, I need to --" Suddenly, the small, yellow device flew from his hand and rolled away into the underbrush, along with the rock that had sent it flying in the first place. "Hey, what the hell was that for?! I'm _trying_ to _save _us here!" the teen snapped angrily, rounding on Slade. The agonizing pain in his head was sending him for a loop, making him way more irritable than he needed to be.

But the irritability was a shared feeling as the man, who was now lying on his side while one of his hands held the back of his head, glowered at him. "And what if we shouldn't be found?" he snarled, his voice getting stronger with the more anger that he felt, blood dripping past the fingers that held him and falling to the forest floor.

"What the fuck does _that_ mean, _Slade_?! Is this another one of your sadistic plans? For me to not be found by my friends? Well, if it is, then I have to say, it's _definitely_ _not _one of your better ones," he couldn't help but add the low blow, grinning inwardly as he saw Slade's glare get harder.

"Obviously, you didn't hear me correctly, _boy_. Perhaps you should work on cleaning those ears of yours out more effectively? I said '_we_', meaning the _both_ of us, not just _you_. If this was _my_ plan, then I wouldn't be -- _nrrgh_! -- lying…i-in pain on some unknown forest's floor; _you_ would be," was his acid-like reply.

"_Ack_! W-Well, in case you hadn't noticed, _Slade_, I'm not exactly sitting in Happy Ville right now either, now am I?" Robin retorted just as cruelly, holding his head in his hands and slipping it in between his knees. Silence soon came across the clearing, taking the place of the words that had left them. Another groan passed from the man, and Robin knew he had to do something, no matter how much he didn't want to.

With a sigh, he crawled over to where he lay and looked down. "_What_?" Slade said, his voice a dead monotone. But the boy didn't answer. Instead, he looked away and pulled a long, thin, white something from his utility belt. Slade was too tired to really care what was going on at the moment, but he knew better than to fall asleep, aware that it would spell out his own doom, so he forced himself to pay attention. He noticed that Robin had taken off his bright green gloves and had placed them down near his legs, which he sat on almost comfortably. _Almost_, as his pain was most prominent in his face. As he laid the white thing in his lap -- which, from what Slade could see, anyway, looked like bandaging -- he looked over at the trees, obviously trying to find something interesting about them.

Robin's nerves suddenly kicked into high gear, making him sweat even more profusely than what he already was. He didn't know how the man was going to react to what he had to say.

A sudden sense of nervousness overcame Slade, but he had no clue as to why. What did _he _need to be worried about, other than his head wound? But that wasn't what was making him uneasy at all, so _what_, then, was making him fret?

"Uh, Slade…if I'm going to…you know…_help you_…then, um -- e-_erk_! -- um…I'm going to need to…um, take off your mask," the boy finally finished, still looking awkwardly away from him.

Silence ensued once more as Slade thought this over. Even though he had amazing healing abilities, he knew his limits, and an open head lesion was definitely one of them. If the bleeding didn't stop immediately, then he would easily slip into unconsciousness, and soon after, the hands of death. He'd died once before already, and he didn't exactly enjoy the sensation of being stripped of all skin and muscle and forced to walk the earth as cloth-covered bones. Even after he'd gotten his life and flesh back, he'd decided that he would take much better care of himself and would never again let his wounds simply fester, even if they _did _heal over again in days when a normal person's would take months, if not years.

But to let him see his face? He wasn't certain, but he was pretty sure that that crossed some sort of line there. Unless of course….

"I'll only let you take off _my _mask if _you _take off _yours_," came his curt reply after minutes of pondering. He was both pleased and terrified when he saw the petrified look on his rival's face.

"W-What…?" he stuttered, disbelief etching itself into his voice.

"Oh, come now, Robin, it's only fair," Slade purred, grinning behind his disguise, "You get to see my face and -- _u-unh_! -- and I get…I get to see your eyes. Actually, it's _more _than fair, since your eye color doesn't really interest me that much, but for now, it will do. So…do we have a deal?"

_Did he _have _to make it sound like I'm about to make a deal with the devil? _Robin thought dejectedly. _Then again, I'm probably not too far off there with that assumption, _he added with an inward smirk as the pain coursed through him again.

"Well, Robin? I'm -- _u-uh-ahh_! -- I'm…waiting, and I doubt I can stay conscious for much longer," Slade said mockingly after a little while.

Without another word, Robin slowly brought his shaking fingers up to his face, trying to stall for as long as possible. But eventually, his hands reached him, and he had no choice; he had to continue, despite the fact that everything in his mind and body was screaming "Stop! Don't do it, you moron! It's a trap!" But if he was going to help Slade, this was the only thing he could do to do it. So, with a odd-sounding _shiiiiiitch_ noise that reminded him of duct tape being pulled off of something that was plush-like and soft, he lowered his mask and showed his enemy his eyes and exposed his identity.

He couldn't help it: he stared at the boy. He never would've guessed blue, not in five hundred millennia. Especially not _that_ color blue. It was beautiful. A blue that made him think of chipped ice on two large, pale crystals. They weren't just beautiful, they were amazing, alluring, daring, pure, completely innocent. He could feel the blood rush to his cheeks -- or rather, what was _left_ of his blood, anyway-- as he looked away, strange, unwanted, and entirely adulterated thoughts making themselves absolutely clear in his mind. His eyes made him look at least three years older than what he actually was, which was probably about fifteen or sixteen. He ordered himself to calm down as Robin spoke again.

"Well…you've, uh, you've seen my eyes, so now it's, um, my turn to…see you…I guess…" he said, embarrassment seeping through him along with something else. Could it possibly be some…sick form of _pleasure_?! He shoved the thoughts aside, his hands reaching towards the other man's mask to take it away, and he was actually surprised when Slade didn't object to it being lifted up from him, even though it would reveal his own identity. His fingers were no longer shaking and were cleanly steady as they found the spots where they could easily remove it from his face. As he brought it upwards and held it near his chest, his breath died where it was in his lungs, shocked at what he saw before him.

He was gorgeous. His long face was chiseled most delicately, and he had an interesting little goatee right in the middle of his chin. He had a perfectly noble nose and was rather fair skinned, which, oddly enough, worked well for him, which didn't for most people in Robin's mind. His single eye glared at him, but strangely held no emotion at all; no contempt, no anger, no fear, nothing, except for perhaps the smallest amount of sad wistfulness. His other eye was entirely covered by a plain black eye patch, the strings of which went around and disappeared behind his head to keep it in place. His thick tresses were the color of white diamonds-in-the-rough that gave him no age at all and matched his facial hair with absolute flawlessness. It came up in gentle spikes and stuck slightly to his face as sweat poured through it from the Amazon-like temperatures. But, as it went around to the opposite side of his skull, it began to tinge into a dreadfully bright ruby hue as the blood came and fell from it.

Slade needed help, and Robin was the only person around to give it to him.

**---**

**A.N. 2:**** Well, sorry about the super-short chappy and annoying cliffy, but I kind of want to see if anyone will review this and tell if I should continue or not. If you think I should, then tell me so, but if not…well, then don't tell me anything, I guess. Ten reviews or more will tell me to complete this, okay? Also, I **_**might**_** have a surprise for y'all in the near future if I'm told to finish this story, but you'll have to wait and see what it is! Bwa-ha-ha! I iz ebil!!! lolz!**


	2. Attention and Distraction

**TT Story: **_**Bound**_

**Chapter Two:**** Attention and Distraction**

**Disclaimer:**** HA! I only **_**wish**_** that I could own Teen Titans. But, alas!-- I do not. For shame. X( I also don't own Honey Nut Cheerios, but **_**this**_** fact actually makes me happy. lolz!**

**A.N.:**** I think I should thank my two best writing friends for helping me through this, so, thank you very much, Mr. Thesaurus and Dr. Medical-Dictionary! Y'all were **_**big **_**helps for this! lolz! XD Oh, and Mr. Internet? You SUCK. Also, I'm sorry for any OOC-ness. I tried to keep them as in-character as possible, but I might have messed up somewhere, so if I did, then please tell me so and I'll try to fix it, m'kay? M'kay! :D**

**Also, I am **_**way **_**too impatient to wait for ten freaking people to review my first chapter, so instead, I'm just going to humor you few who actually want to know what'll happen next and just put this chapter up now. But I still want to know what y'all think about it, so go ahead and tell me, and I'll pay attention, m'kay? Well, enjoy, I guess…**

**---**

"Ah. Naivety. How glad I am to NOT HAVE IT," Slade said sourly as Robin lifted and turned him.

"What are you talking about, Slade? I'm not naïve," Robin argued as he rolled the much-heavier-than-imagined man onto his stomach and placed his face into his lap so that he could see his wound better.

"So…you're simply dim-witted, then?" came his muffled reply as he glared at the boy's crotch. He couldn't _believe _that Robin didn't see what he meant by all of this. Was he really _that_ sheltered?!

"I'm NOT dim-witted OR naïve! Now shut up so I can get to work on you!" he snapped back angrily.

Slade's face instantly burned with embarrassment and his eyebrows twitched agitatedly at what was just said, but then he quietly sighed. How could Robin _not_ realize the suggestive position that he was in _or _how wrong his last words were? He knew that the boy didn't mean anything to be interpreted the way that it could have been, but he should at least know that they _could _be seen that way. But the fact that he might not just made him seem like a fool, and Slade _knew _that he wasn't, despite all his mockery of him.

The two let the conversation drop as Robin inspected the injury and decided on what to do, silently thanking Raven for all those boring medical treatment classes she forced them to take from her. There were no skull or cervical spine fractures and fortunately no cerebrospinal fluid leaks. Good. However, he could feel Slade's body getting weaker by the second, which meant that he could possibly have a concussion and be collapsing into unconsciousness. _Not _good.

Seizing a clean pad from the same pocket in his belt that he'd gotten the bandages from, he shoved his own commencing tiredness aside and lightly placed it over the large gash. He was extremely careful so as not to put pressure on it, though, knowing that if his skull was indeed fractured and he'd just missed it, then it could push the fragments of the rupture -- along with other foreign things like germs or pieces of dirt -- into his brain and cause some serious damage.

Then, taking the strips of bandages in one hand and supporting Slade's neck in the other, he gently brought his head up and began to wrap them around it, holding the pad where it was. When he was all done and the wound and pad were perfectly covered with the thick cloth, he cautiously held the last narrow piece on top, then took out two medicinal clasps. He attached the first clasp to the top corner of the material, then the second to the bottom corner, hitching them both to the fabric that lied underneath.

"There. You're done," Robin said, leaning back on his bare hands with a sigh as sweat poured down his back. He didn't know why, but his exhaustion was growing exponentially, exactly matching the rate at which Slade's own was, and the heat wasn't exactly making it any easier to stay awake. He felt drained and sore, his fingers pinched and pained, his unmasked eyes heavy and drooped. "You can get off me now," he added, looking away and flushing a bit. While he had worked, he'd thought about what Slade had said, and even though he didn't mention it, he eventually understood what he had meant by his peculiar words. He _really_ didn't like it that Slade could -- or even _would_ -- think like that, and he wasn't comforted by the fact that it had taken him so long to get it, either.

As the man slowly pushed himself up and got on his hands and knees, a small groan rose from his lips and a disgusting sense of nausea ascended itself into in his stomach, bile coming up to his throat. He did _not_ want to vomit in front of the boy because he didn't want to make himself seem any weaker than he already did, and to him, any form of illness made visualized was pretty much the lowest of the low. So, as gross as it tasted and as much as it burned, he forced himself to swallow his breakfast again: _Honey Nut Cheerios_.

Worst. Breakfast cereal. _Ever_.

Or at least, it is if you need to barf it back up again.

But Slade would not allow that of himself, especially if he had "company" like he did now. Instead, he made himself sit on his bottom with his legs stretched out before him, leaning backwards on his hands as the boy had done, giving him his body's profile while he turned his head so his eye could look on him. He practically _dared _him to attack.

Suddenly, Robin slammed his hand against his mouth, a shocked look coming into his eyes as he leaned forward and pressed his other hand to his stomach. He swerved his body away from the man and brought the hand that had held his abdomen to the ground. After a moment's pause, Slade heard a clenched, gulping sound, then he noticeably winced, looking away to give the boy some privacy in case he needed to toss up what he'd just re-ingested. Luckily, however, he had enough control of his body to keep his previously-eaten food down.

"What was _that_ all about…?" Robin mumbled to no one in particular as he rubbed his forehead. _This_ Slade found to be an intriguing statement: wasn't he injured just like he was? He certainly acted like it, so it only made sense that he would have a concussion just like him. Did he not know the symptoms of such an ailment? Now he was both intrigued and confused, because it had seemed like he had known what he was doing. He knew that he had followed the little sorceress girl's lessons to the letter and had paid plenty of attention to what she had spoken of, so why did he not realize what was wrong with him now?

Not being able to hold his puzzlement for long, he decided he would tell him what was going on and see how it went from there. "Don't you know the signs of a concussion, boy? Vomiting, confusion, and headaches are some that _should've_ tipped you off," he said in a slightly annoyed voice. He shouldn't _have _to tell this…_child_…anything that he should already know!

"Yeah, I know the signs, but I shouldn't be…" Robin said slowly and let his words trail away from him as he thought with apparent difficulty. He unknowingly allowed his emotions to dwindle down as he almost closed his eyes in concentration. What had happened to them…? …and why was the ground beginning to sway underneath him…? …or maybe he was the one swaying…? …why couldn't he feel the dirt anymore…? …wait, didn't he have hands two seconds ago…? …why did sleep suddenly sound so wonderful…? …so…_tired_…

Why did Slade's head hurt so much…? …why did Robin look so _hazy_…? …why did sleep suddenly sound so wonderful…? …wait, he couldn't sleep, wasn't he an insomniac…?! …why did the thought of sleep make him so nervous…? …wasn't sleep a good thing…? …so…_tired_…

A sharp gasp and a widening of his eye brought him back to the land that lives without dreams as he hastily sat up. But, when had he fallen asleep, and how long had he been out for?

"_Robin_!" was all he could manage, hardly being able to breathe. No response. He looked around wildly before he stopped and clutched his head with a grunt, angry pain raging its way into his mind. He had to stop and calm himself down before he could do anything else. He inhaled deeply, then shouted the name once more. "ROBIN!?" Where was that kid? And why did he suddenly care so much about his well-being?

A moan sounded about two feet to his right, and he turned his head quickly (and painfully) to see the Titan laying on his belly on the ground. He moaned again and Slade found himself at the boy's side at once. But when had he moved, and _why_…? He would have to ponder about himself later; right now, Robin was in pain and falling unconscious again, and he needed to stay awake if he was going to live.

"Robin…" he said, his silken voice both quiet and demanding. He reached out, rolled him onto his back, and grasped his shoulders, shaking them gently so as not to hurt his head even more. "It's time to wake up, little bird…"

"U-Unh…?" he mumbled, confused. He blinked a few times and the small quaking in his shoulders finally ceased, though when they had started he did not know. When his vision began to clear at last, he saw something before him that he could only have come up with in his most wildest of imaginings: the face that now looked upon him was unconditionally handsome. But where had it come from? Something of a memory scratched at the surface of his mind, but he couldn't quite understand it, not yet. It was too fuzzy to grab a hold of now. Instead he just smiled a dopey smile up at the face, happy it was there to see him.

Slade wasn't sure about what to do. Robin was smiling up at him the way someone smoking marijuana might, and Slade couldn't help but grin back. The look on his face was just too funny and too cute!

Wait…_cute_?! What the hell?! Was he _insane_?!

Maybe he'd been hit harder than he'd thought…

He was smiling back! Robin bubbled with delight at this. He'd never seen a smile that was more beautiful than this one, and he knew that he never would. Very smoothly, he moved his exposed hand up and touched the man's reddening cheeks as his grin faded, trying to see if he was real or not. His single eye grew large at the light caress but even larger still when his fingers traced his partially opened lips, and Robin couldn't help but wonder if his face had never been touched by anyone else before.

The thought brought another one like it to him, and he was instantly curious if his face had never been _seen_ by anyone else before.

_Never been seen_…

The words stirred something in him that seemed to drag him back by his hair to what was really going on here. Suddenly, the fuzzy memory came back to him full on and clear as day, and he froze, his own smile gone and his sweat becoming cold, regardless of the high heat.

He was touching _Slade_.

_Still_ touching, to be precise: his fingers were still resting delicately on his mouth.

And he _liked_ it.

**---**

**A.N. 2:**** Sadly, I know about the whole "Cheerios-barf" thing from personal experience. XP Definitely **_**not**_** fun. Let's just say that I don't think I'll be eating Cheerios again anytime soon, unless I'm forced to, and that's a promise. Alright, well, anyway, I really hope y'all enjoyed this chapter (I know **_**I**_** did!) and I'm sorry if anyone got really grossed out by the Cheerios. I honestly couldn't help myself on that one! lolz! R&R, y'all! :D**

**Also, the part about Robin fixing up Slade's head **_**IS**_** accurate, so if ever you find yourself in a situation like that, then just follow my description of it and you should be fine. Just make sure that they're on a hard, flat surface and you provide plenty of support for their head and neck, okay? And cerebrospinal fluid is a sort of straw-colored liquid and usually comes out of the ears, and if it **_**does **_**come out, then just hold a rag to it, but **_**DON'T**_** try to hold it into their head: that would just make it worse and you **_**could **_**blow out an eardrum from the increased amount of pressure. And if they have/could possibly have a concussion, then make them stay awake for as long as possible, or else they could die. Not kidding. **

**(Symptoms of concussions are brief unconsciousness for a few seconds, headaches, tiredness, dizziness, confusion, lack of feeling/emotion, blurred vision, anxiety, vomiting, lack of memory prior to the injury, and, on rare occasions/with repeated concussions, slurred speech, slow thinking, and punch-drunk syndrome (****weakness in the lower limbs, unsteadiness when walking, slowness of muscular movements, hand tremors, hesitancy of speech, and mental dullness****). If symptoms persist/get worse, then get medical attention RIGHT AWAY.)**


	3. Nightfall and Daybreak: Part 1

**TT Story: **_**Bound**_

**Chapter Three:**** Nightfall and Daybreak (Part 1)**

**Disclaimer:**** Okay, **_**listen**_**: I DO **_**NOT**_** OWN THE TEEN TITANS. Now stop depressing me.**

**A.N.:**** So, good news (for y'all): I have a minor case of writers' block for my book, so I've decided to work a little more on Bound! But, oh my Gods, I am **_**so**_** sorry that I haven't written anything in a while! Please don't kill me! Although . . . if you need someone/something to blame, then I suppose you can blame my usernameless sister. Hopefully that helps? XD**

**Oh, y'all, I'm so sorry, and I _really_ hate doing this, but I've decided something: I will only post Chapter Four (Part 2 for this chapter) if I get at least _five_ _reviews_ from _five different people_ on this chapter saying that y'all want the second part. I KNOW, I KNOW, I _SUCK_, but unfortunately, this is the only way that I know how to get people to tell me that they want more. I mean, if nobody wants me to continue this, then that's fine, I won't, but I need to know, m'kay? So, again, I'M SO. SORRY. DX**

**---**

They stayed shock-still like that for about a minute longer, completely unable to move, speak, or even breathe. The hot, watery air then decided to take this moment to settle itself upon them once more, for when they had moved, they had shoved it aside most annoyingly (in the air's opinion). It took the air/water's action of slicking them down again for the humans' brains to start working, and when they did, they started up with a jolt.

Robin jumped and darted backwards with a squeak most unbecoming of a boy his age while Slade immediately moved likewise (but without the ridiculous noise). Slade's legs tried desperately to work themselves out before him, kicking the dirt in a way that was obviously meant to move him farther back, but the act was both absurd and unsuccessful, so he forced himself to stop. All eyes were wide and all faces were red, thoughts running rampant in their now fully-functional minds. The air laughed out loud, howling with glee at their expressions, and made sodden, boiling winds sweep across and between them because of it.

_WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU_?! Robin's head screamed at him. _THIS IS YOUR _ENEMY, _YOU IDIOT_!!!_ YOU'RE NOT SUPPOSED TO _ENJOY_ TOUCHING HIM_!!!

_WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU_?! Slade's own mentality screeched. _THIS IS YOUR _ENEMY, _YOU IDIOT_!!!_ YOU'RE NOT SUPPOSED TO _ENJOY IT_ WHEN HE TOUCHES YOU_!!!

A few minutes more of silence and the wind died down a bit, becoming slightly bored with this. Night was falling quickly, and with it the temperatures were dropping equally fast, but still they did not move. Finally, however, Slade cleared his throat and whispered softly, "Are you . . . injured?"

Robin had not been expecting this. He had been expecting violence, cursing, _glaring_, even, anything really, but not this. But, although it was not anticipated, he felt the need to at least answer him, and said, just as quietly, "I'm fine . . . .", then looked away.

Slade was not convinced.

"Robin," he said lowly, "if you don't tell me where you're hurt, then I will personally go over every _inch_ of your body until I find your wound and fix it for you. I know that you're in pain, and since you helped me, I suppose that I feel the need to help you just the same. Now, _tell me where you are injured_." He watched him then, waiting for any action -- any at all -- that told where. _Come on, do something_, any_thing_, _just show me where you're in pain_! he internally begged. The back of his head was laced with throbbing for a moment, but it was gentler now, not quite as intense as it once was, thanks both to Robin's remedies and his own abilities.

Robin winced slightly and his hand subconsciously moved to his skull for a second, then dropped back down to his side, his twinge forgotten, but it was enough. In an instant, Slade was upon him, an imposing force that would not be removed, and in another instant more, the Titan was pined to the ground by large, steady hands and a strong, heavy body.

"Sl-Slade, what the _f_-_fuck_ are you _doing_?!" Robin exclaimed in alarm. He didn't like how fast the man could already move or how strong he could make himself, especially since _he _was still a little shaky and frail for the time being.

"I'm . . . _helping_," he supplied with an evil grin. His hands had tightly grasped the teen's forearms at his flanks and his legs were on either side of Robin's, trapping them at the knees into the dirt by the crooks in between Slade's feet and ankles. It was a tactic that he'd learned years ago that would render the one underneath him completely motionless and utterly susceptible and defenseless. No one could escape from this kind of snare unless they were allowed to, and Slade wasn't about to let _this_ prey up yet.

"L-Let me up! NOW, Slade! I-I'm not playing around here!" he roared, struggling beneath him but coming to no avail.

"Neither. Am. I," he retorted coldly, his smirk fading to be replaced by absolute seriousness. It was quite obvious that he wasn't getting up any time soon, so Robin simply settled for angry grumblings of "molester", "rapist", and "psycho" among other things while the man calmly worked. Moving the teen's one hand to his other and keeping both in a single palm (a surprisingly easy fit), he removed his free hand's glove with his teeth and eyed Robin critically. He didn't enjoy being called such names, as they were completely irrational and didn't even cover his real characteristics at all. They were entirely redundant, and he had _thought_ that the boy would've had much a better choice of words in the matter. However, he had no idea as to the wild things that were currently loping unrestrained through the poor hero's mind and were the actual cause for such an intellectual decrease.

Robin was presently having a difficult time breathing, which in no way had any correlation to the man that was sitting on top of him . . . weight-wise, that is. He could feel his face inflame itself to an even darker shade of red as he sweated, trying to think of anything other than the mercenary above. Light, surprisingly cool fingers traced the strands of his hair, making him feel beleaguered and teased, while a whispering voice chided him softly: "Lift your head . . . ." "Turn it that way . . . ." "Now that way . . . ." "Curl up as much as you can . . . ." "That's right . . . ." "Hmm . . . ." Robin could tell that his body was responding to his incitement and prayed to all the gods and goddesses he could think of to make sure that Slade did _not_ sit down on him.

His prayers were either discarded and not listened to or simply laughed at and forced to do the exact opposite of what he'd hoped for, because suddenly, Slade sat back, rubbed his goateed chin for a split second as if confused, then halted mid-stroke.

Oh, how he _hated_ the gods' humor sometimes.

**---**

**A.N. 2:**** I know, I know, a suck-ish and annoyingly short chapter, and I'm sorry for that, but it's late, I'm tired, I've worked on this for **_**far **_**too long for **_**anyone's **_**tastes, and I want to freakin' post it already! GAH! DX Alright, well, anyway, please don't kill me for the cliff-hanger, and (**_**hopefully**_**) I'll have the second part of this chapter posted up within the next week or so. So, again, sorry! DX**

**Also, in case you were wondering, the position that Slade's in while on top of Robin actually **_**works**_** (I tried it on my usernameless sister, then she on me, and both times worked like a charm) and I'm very pleased with it because I actually came up with it myself. ROCKIN'! I CAME UP WITH A WAY TO MAKE SOMEONE ENTIRELY DEFENSELESS **_**AND**_** MOTIONLESS! YEAH!!!**

**Wow, that sounds really . . . **_**creepy**_**, now that I read it and think about it. X] Sorry about that.**


	4. Nightfall and Daybreak: Part 2

**TT Story: **_**Bound**_

**Chapter Four:**** Nightfall and Daybreak (Part 2)**

**Disclaimer:**** I-ay on'td-ay wno-ay het-ay eenT-ay itansT-ay . . . . Wow. Even in **_**Pig Latin**_** that sentence is depressing, and that's the happiest language I **_**know**_**.**

**A.N.:**** I'm sorry that the last chapter was so short, but let's hope that this one will be more to y'all's liking, m'kay? :D But, hey, total awesomeness, I actually got **_**MORE**_** reviews than I bargained for! YES! I **_**LOVE**_** Y'ALL! 8D Enjoy!**

**Also, I hope that y'all get all of the (sexual) innuendos that I put in here. If not, just ask me and I will explicitly explain it to you (yes, you heard me right; I have no problem when it comes to corrupting the people that I meet, strangers online included. Lolz!). XD**

**---**

Clouds stopped scuttling in the pastel-colored skies. Birds stopped singing in the trees. The sun stopped drifting down past the unseen horizon. The full moon stopped climbing the nebulous, hazy stars. The wind stopped skipping in the leaves. All time seemed to stop before them, halting itself to see what the _hell _was going on here.

"U-Uhm, uuuuh . . . ." Robin stammered, and he could find no way to answer Slade's slowly raising eyebrows, his stark-blue eye entirely unreadable in any way, shape, or form. He settled for silence instead, however, and simply allowed the man to emboss him into his vision. He locked eyes with the criminal exceeding him, not permitting himself to back down and turn away, not yet.

Slade's mind would not currently think for him, but something _else _on his body most _certainly _was. As he stared, he saw the ever-brightening stars become mirrored within Robin's gaze while the pallid, violet heavens set themselves nadir in the places where the shadows were nonexistent, they at the zenith of his eyes. He was beautiful, his face flushed pink and his body damp with sweat through his clothes, his pitch hair naturally soft again from the heat having had evaporated the difficult gel.

And he was unconditionally at Slade's imaginary mercy and absolute control.

The thought made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, and his chest would not heave another breath. His hand tightened around Robin's wrists, urging himself to relax, and he could feel the bruises through the Titan's skin already forming. A strange pain found its own way into his arms, but he took no heed of it, presently distracted by his contemplations.

"_Ah_! -- Sl-Slade . . . !" Robin gasped. His lower forearms were being crushed by the assassin's grip, and he winced while his mouth formulated syllables but made no sounds. He ground his teeth together to make sure that he _made _no noises, though, not wanting to either entice or aggravate him further, and forced himself to look upon his foe once more.

Suddenly, however, time re-began again, and he was gone, off of Robin so fast that it took a second for him -- or rather, his _lungs_ -- to realize that he was allowed air now. He took the wonderful stuff in in thirsty respirations, surprised that he'd missed it so much, and was both relieved and disappointed to be expunged of the weight that would've killed him.

"My analysis states that, so far as visual, surface injuries go, you are fine. No bruises, cuts, bumps, or any abrasions of any kind are on the outside, and a lack of tenderness suggests no skull fractures, either," Slade's voice sounded a few feet away, and Robin was taken aback at how curt and terse and . . . _analytical _of something it seemed. Or perhaps some_one _. . . ?

With his back turned and his hands exposed behind him, Slade stood still and waited for his body to calm down. _This boy is dangerous to me_ . . . . he thought to himself warily, watching a tree that did nothing more but look innocently at him in return.

"_I_ could've told you that _myself_, Psychopath," Robin snorted indignantly, pulling himself up into a sitting position as he yawned and glared at the man's back. Slade half-turned to give a retort to defend his mentality (and ask how he could _possibly believe_ anything that the boy said), but how he sat now practically ordered him to turn around again, maintain immobility, and say _nothing_. The adolescent's arched posture, his widespread legs, his opened mouth, his one arm stretched to the lilac whisper-clouds, his other draped elegantly before his lower face to hide his closing lips, his slowly opening eyes . . . .

VERY_ dangerous _. . . . _Gods, it's like he's doing it to me on _purpose! Slade's mind hissed while it threw an annoyed look over its shoulder at the younger man.

"So . . . ."

_Just ignore him, just ignore him, just ignore him_ . . . .

"I guess . . . ."

. . . . _Just ignore him, just _ignore_ him, just _ignore him . . . !

". . . . I'll leave now?"

_Just ig_-- He blinked.

He did not _want_ Robin to leave. He was afraid for his life in these unknown surroundings, and what were to happen to him if he got hurt? No one would be around to help him, and he would probably have no clue as how to operate on himself. He undoubtedly didn't know what foods he could and could not eat, not an inkling of how to follow the stars by night or the sun by day, no idea where and when he could sleep and still be safe from violent predators. No, he needed to stay with him if he was going to survive; _Slade_ at least knew all of these things and more, so he would have no trouble at all in finding civilization all in one piece.

"I do not think that that would be very wise, but if you feel the need to leave, then I will not stop you," his voice said smoothly through his reflections. Still he did not look at the boy, but he could hear him contemplating his options and which of them to choose from.

"Why wouldn't that be wise for me to do?" he asked in annoyance after a minute or two.

Slade considered the question, then said evenly, "Because you are ignorant."

". . . . _What_?" Slade could almost _feel _the daggers being driven into his skull. He winced slightly: he should've _known_ to use a better choice of words.

"I only meant that you don't understand how the environment works. You wouldn't know --"

"_Don't you tell me _what I would and would not understand, _Slade_," came an angry snarl. "_You _don't know a _damn thing _about me. I could eat freakin' _rainbows _for all you know! And even if I _did_, that would be none of _your_ damn business, _Slade_, so stay the _fuck _out of it!"

Fury flared through Slade's body for reasons he could not envisage, and he whirled on the teen. "Why you over-dramatic little piece of _shit_! I was only trying to _help _you, and you tell me to stay _out of your business_?! It is not often when something enrages to such an extent to where I will _gladly_ torture it, but _you _--"

"WHAT THE _HELL _ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?! YOU WOULD '_GLADLY_' TORTURE A PERSON ANY DAY OF THE _WEEK_!" Robin roared, jumping to his feet in a nanosecond as his hands balled themselves into fists.

_That_ seemed to have struck a nerve in the wall that was christened Slade. "You are _completely _unaware of _any_thing that thrives outside of your perfect little world, _aren't _you?," he growled flatly. "_Go_. And if I am _ever_ forced to see your face again, I will _not _hesitate to _annihilate _you and your stupid little friends the way I have in the past." His eye shone with ice and steel, his jaw clenched to sate his need to _kill _something, his hands so tightly compressed that it was surprising there was no blood as of yet, and it was clear to Robin that he _wasn't _kidding.

"_Fine_," he snarled just as acidly. He stormed forward to pick up his discarded things and throw them into his pockets, and Slade watched him move. Night had fallen cool and thick like winter, and the moon's and stars' liquid light gently soothed their temperaments, gracing Slade with the ability to look past his anger and see his wrongfulness. But, alas, too late, Robin had found the last of his necessities and was heading for the edge of their encompassing trees.

Before Slade could even give an utterance of telling him to stop, Robin froze about three feet ahead of him. After two minutes of silence and no movement whatsoever from him, Slade knew that something was up. Another two minutes of him not answering Slade when he called out his name questioningly, he knew that what was "up" was something bad. When Robin suddenly collapsed, his lips and fingernails a harsh indigo while his eyes rolled back into his head, Slade knew no more; he simply reacted.

"_Robin_!" he exclaimed, once more at his side and lifting him up gently.

A small, shattered breath danced passed Robin's mouth as he slowly returned to normal color, his eyes coming into a forced focus on Slade's face. The man's fear subsided slightly, but only slightly. "What happened?" Slade asked softly, his voice becoming light silk once again.

". . . . Couldn't move . . . . Couldn't breathe . . . . " he choked out, "Could only . . . see _you_ . . . in my _mind_ . . . !"

This was too confusing to Slade, which meant that he had no response to the next question that was asked: "W. . .What's going on?"

". . . . I'm not sure. But I'm willing to find out . . . in the _morning_," he added swiftly as he felt the boy try to get up with a short nod. He pushed him down onto his lap again and said, "We both need rest if either of us is to fully think more. Our bodies and our minds are tired, yours especially, so sleep would be the only intelligent tactic to follow right now. And _don't _bother trying to argue with me, you _know _I'm right," he said just as Robin opened his mouth. But with Slade's hand pressed to his lips, he closed it again and, defeated, nodded mutely after a pause.

"Good little bird . . . . " the murderer cooed tranquilly, removing the already half asleep Titan from his legs and laying him on the ground.

As he curled himself into a loose ball near the only heat source he could find -- that being Slade's body -- he muttered sleepily, "You don' . . . _really know_ me . . . . I _do_ still 'ave . . . _one_ more s'cret . . . . "

"Oh? And what would _that _be?" Slade drolled with a roll of his eye.

"M' age . . . . 'm _ni'_. . ._teen _. . . . "

Slade's head whipped towards the boy in shock, his eye widening while his mind tried to calculate the years. But Robin was already sleeping, his even breaths making his small frame rise and fall lightly, his lashes long and dark against pale, angular cheeks.

"You should not have told me that, little one . . . . " Slade murmured quietly as he smiled down sinisterly at the Boy Wonder. "I don't _mess _with _children_ . . . . "

Then, leaning back on his elbows with a wry grin (for he knew how Robin would've responded to the joke had he been awake), he settled himself down to watch and count the stars above. He was not aiming to fall asleep like the lithe, warm form beside him, he just wanted to count them out.

But at around 21,388,497, he did.

**---**

**A.N. 2:**** Sorry again about the "**_**canyon**_**-hanger", as ****older-love**** hilariously described it, that was at the end of Chapter 3/Part 1, but it was necessary. Hopefully this ending was more bearable? :D I hope so, if only for my own safety. 8D**

**Alas, there's just one. More. Part. **_**Left**_**! Let's hope we can make it, y'all! :D (By "part", I mean part to "Nightfall and Daybreak", not actual **_**chapters**_**. If I had that many chapters left, then this wouldn't be much of a story, now would it?)**

**Another five reviews from five different people and y'all'll get the next chapter, m'kay? I really do hate myself when I do this, but I really don't have a choice.**

**Sorry.**


	5. Nightfall and Daybreak: Part 3

**TT Story:**_**Bound**_

**Chapter Five:**** Nightfall and Daybreak (Part 3)**

**Disclaimer:**** Wait, WHAT? I **_**DON'T **_**own the Teen Titans?!?! **_**NnnnOooohhh**_**, REALLY? -sarcasm- )=[**

**A.N.:**** Holy **_**CRAP**_**!!! I hadn't even **_**started**_** writing out this chapter yet and I **_**already**_** had the five needed reviews! ZOMG! D8 I'm **_**terrified **_**of what y'all'd do if I DIED without finishing this thing!**

**I think I might need to up the review ante a little bit . . . . **_**Hmm **_**. . . .**

**Also, I need to give out a big-ass THANK YOU for this chapter to one of my favorite authors, ****Wynja****; so, you know, THANK YOU!!! This chapter literally **_**would not**_** be possible without her help as a one-time beta-reader-person-thingy (I'm not exactly sure WHAT they're called), so if y'all really want, go thank her yourself NOW.**

**(Yes, that's right, ****Wynja****. I just told them to go flood your inbox. I hope you "**_**enjoy**_**" that little bombardment! :D Bwahaha!!! XD)**

**(I think a retelling of the Wicked Witch of the West's favorite saying is in order here: "Fly, my pretties, **_**fly**_**, **_**FLY**_**! Ah-hahahahahaha!!!") Lolz!**

**Alright, well, on with the show, y'all! :D (And sorry for the long-ass intro here.)**

**---**

Shimmering stars blinking out of a softly rosy- and mauve-colored sky were the first things that Slade saw as he awakened. He smiled at the correspondence of coincidences, since the stars were also the _last _things that he'd seen as he'd fallen asleep. Then he frowned. _Why_ had he slept? And _how_ was it possible that he could've done so?

His frown deepened as he came to the realization that something was laying upon his outstretched arm, and as he turned to look, his nose came into contact with something that felt soft and smelled intoxicating.

Intoxicating _is right . . . . I cannot seem to get enough of this . . . _tang . . . . Slade thought wildly to himself as he inhaled the strange scent more. He wrapped his other arm around the body that was appended to the thick blackness and drank it all in willingly, his lips parted to savor the coagulated fragrance on the roof of his mouth as he closed his eye again and lost himself in it.

"Mmm-_hm-hm_ . . . ! " came a small rumble from the peaceful form, "'hat . . . _tickles_ . . . . hm _. . . ha-ha_ . . . ! "

Slade's eye snapped open again as he felt reality crash down on him. He yanked himself away from the dangerous, sleeping mound and sat up in one swift movement. Sirens were blaring in his head as he inched even further back, before he finally took a deep breath in order to release some of his tension.

RELAX . . . . he coaxed his body mellifluously. _He didn't wake up, so he probably thought that what he felt was just a part of his dream_. Calm. DOWN.

_I wonder what he's dreaming about, anyway_ . . . ? a newer, darker part of his mind pondered with an evil grin. _Don't _YOU_ want to know, _too_, Slade_? _Oh, look, he seems _cold . . . . this strange voice noted with false pity, its bright, pearly fangs flashing in that widening sneer. _Maybe you should . . . warm him up a bit_ . . . ?

"What the _fuck_ . . . ?" Slade hissed to no one as an unnerving confusion settled in.

_Oh, come _on_, Slade, you _KNOW_ you want to_! the odd mentality murmured back coyly. _It's not like you haven't thought about it before_. _So, now's your chance_ . . . .

Weeeellll . . . . a much more normal part of him said thoughtfully, PERHAPS_, if it were done in such a way so as to_ --

"No," Slade growled flatly. He would not give in to his whims simply because the situation presented itself . . . _so_ temptingly . . . .

"_NO_," he snapped again coldly, more to his body this time than to anything else.

_Party-pooper_, the shadow muttered childishly as it crossed its thin arms and glared at the pitch, proverbial floor.

Slade merely rolled his eye at the ridiculous comment, but said nothing more on the subject. Instead, he did what he usually did to take his mind -- and body -- off of something he didn't want to and/or shouldn't be thinking about: he reeled onto his stomach, put his hands underneath his shoulders, and pushed up, straining the muscles lightly for a trice, then dropped down slowly until his lips almost touched the dirt below, then waited some seconds before pushing off once more.

He had been at this for quite some time when the strange mind-creature decided to talk to him again -- much to Slade's annoyance.

_So_ . . . it said lazily, as if it had all the time and all the boredom in the world to bother the man (which it probably did), _if you're not going to play with him, why do you keep staring at him as if you were a predator and he your prey_?

Slade immediately tore his eye from the soft face of the hero and glowered at the ground that his torso was headed towards. "I am _not_ staring at him, I am simply . . . . "

. . . . _ogling him like a piece of meat_? it returned after a second of Slade's words trailing, and although its own lexis were innocent enough, its fanged, too-knowing leer had slipped onto its face again.

"_No_," he snarled back angrily. He was getting pissed that the stupid little thing just would _not shut up_! "I was not '_ogling_' him, you freak -- "

_Hey, _I'M_ not the freak here, buddy_. That_ would be _you_, since _you're_ the one talking to me_, it flared in irritation.

Slade scoffed softly at his newfound nuisance, then asked a question that had been a vexation to him for the past few minutes; "So, if you don't mind my asking" -- he knew the only way to get an answer was to be as polite as possible to it -- "who, or rather, _what_, are you?"

An irksome tittering was heard before it replied spitefully, _Why, who do you _think _I am, dummy_?_ I'm _YOU! _Duh_!

"And _that's_ why I'm asking. There is _no possible way_ that you could EVER be _me_," he retorted coolly, dropping his act of politeness. It was not often that he was polite to _himself_, or rather, what _claimed_ to be him, as that was the case of the matter here, and it was a little _too_ weird to be so.

_Don't be _rude_, Slade, of _course _I'm you_, the entity snorted indignantly.

"Prove it," he said, and his voice was devoid of all emotion as he waited for the thing to fall for his trap.

_Okay, _fine, it snapped agitatedly, _I _WILL.

Slade smirked lightly as he refocused on his pushups; it had just ensnared itself into a web that it would _never _be able to get out of.

_First of all_, it said impatiently, and its voice rose to near rant-level, _I am in your _MIND_, so how could I _NOT _be you_?!

"You could be a telepath's implant that's meant to distract me while something else goes on in the meantime," he supplied calmly.

The tiny being paled to an even whiter shade than what it already was, and it seemed flabbergasted for a moment, as if it had been slapped. Its beetle-black eyes watched him irately as it struggled to formulate its next sentence, twitching minutely.

_How . . . How . . . How _DARE YOU?! it screeched, and fury stretched across its tight, ugly façade as its sable and riotous hair crackled like wildfire upon its head. Its frail build trembled as if its pent up rage were about to explode from it. _I am _NO ONE'S_ creation but my own, and I will not _--

"Oh, but you _are_ someone else's, _aren't _you?" Slade interrupted with a smirk, and allowed his trap to become visible to the semi-skeleton while it was swallowed whole by the metaphorical lattice. "You are MY creation, isn't that correct? Or . . . perhaps you are . . . _mistaken_, little creature?"

Its shaking got worse and its twitching got stronger as it stuttered to find the right words to say, though they both knew that it wouldn't. _I_-_I_-_I_--_ n-no, ah, I mean, a-ah, y-yes, yes _-- _er, no, wait, uh _--

"Having trouble _deciding_, are w-- _AGH_!" Suddenly, Slade was rolling on the ground, stopping finally with his back in the already sun-heated dust. Something that was barely half his weight and not even _near _his height was crouched on his stomach, straddling his body, as it glared at him with eyes of the most piercing kind of ice.

It was apparent that Slade was so centered on his goal of capturing the tiny beast in his head, that he hadn't quite noticed when the tiny beast in the world beyond it had chosen to pounce, a factor he now direly regretted missing.

Robin, it seemed, was awake . . . and not exactly happy about it.

**---**

**A.N. 2:**** I'm **_**so **_**sorry that this chapter/part took so long to upload, but I had **_**so**_**. **_**Much**_**. **_**HOMEWORK**_**! And, of course, my house was also captured by a small but powerful army on Tuesday. It was a long and fierce battle, but, alas, I'm afraid that **_**this**_** commander was forced to raise her white flag to the fleet . . . that is, until Generals Mom and Dad came home, torn it down again, fought and then **_**won **_**my previously lost battle.**

**Yes, yes, 'twas the Great Massacre of '09 . . . . Those ants had better have another think coming the next time they get the bright idea to try and take MY fortress again! Lolz! XD**

**On a more boring note, another five reviews from five different people and you get the next chapter. Sorry.**

**I'm thinking of making that a mandatory requirement. However, the "price" is still five, I won't raise it unless I find the need to. So . . . BEWARE! }8D**


	6. Accusations and Mistakes

**TT Story: **_**Bound**_

**Chapter Six:**** Accusations and Mistakes**

**Disclaimer:**** I own nothing! Unh! TT_TT**

**A.N.:**** [Readers] -- ZOHOLY CHUCK NORRIS, AN UPDATE?!?! NO WAYZLES!?!**

**[Me] -- Lolz. Yes. I'm updating. You may die of shock now. XD**

**[Readers] -- *die***

**[Meh] -- ^^; Uh, heh-heh.… Just…kidding….**

**Okay, so this story is currently tied for continuation with my OTHER story, "Temper, Temper!" (**_**Invader Zim **_**universe), in my poll on my bio page. However, since I've got some writer's block for that one, I decided to do this one first! Sorry for those patiently waiting for "T, T!", and congratulations to y'all "Bound" readers! But, unluckily enough for everyone, my blockageness seems to have returned for this one, so, I don't know, maybe I should put this back onto hiatus again…? Who knows, maybe I should….**

**But!-- I don't care right now! So on with the show! :D**

**---**

"WHAT IN THE _HELL _HAS COME OVER YOU?!" Robin roared, and Slade could suddenly feel his own blood boil, along with something else that tasted quite bitter on his tongue: fear. But why was it here, _now _of all times? What was the reason for _that?!_

"Well, if you'd consider the fact that I've just been assailed by a _midget_, then perhaps you'd want to rephrasethat question," the mercenary growled snidely. He _hated_ this estranged flavor of alarm that was now caught in his throat, and it showed in his strong face.

"You know _damn well_ what I mean, _Slade_," the teen now hissed, "_Why_ were you talking to yourself?! I've taken you for an egotistical, psychopathic _murderer_, but never for a _schizophrenic_. That's not your style."

"My '_style_'_?_ Tell me, Robin, what exactly _is_ my style, then, if you are _so sure_ of what it is?" was Slade's cruel snap. Another thing he detested was when someone -- especially Robin -- simply guessed something about him. "Never _assume_ _any_thing unless you've got you're facts straight to prove yourself _right_."

"DON'T YOU _DARE_ LECTURE ME, _SLA_--"

"And if _I_ don't, then who _will_, I wonder?" he interrupted, and his voice was hard and cold. "Not your _parents_, they've been dead for years, and they wouldn't bother to help you anyway, you've got a little something called _bloodlust_. Not _Batman_, you left him to go out on your own, become the adult you'll _never_ be able to face. Not the _Titans_, you're their '_fearless leader_', they'd never take you for the uninformed type, and wouldn't help you even if they _did_. Get it through your thick skull, boy. I'm the only person you've got left to ask for help."

The hero became still upon the man. He felt like he had just been slapped across the face. He knew that his old self, Richard, had been compromised the second his mask had been taken from his skin, but he had thought that he had changed enough over the years for that to be covered. Slade had known, _some_how, _exactly_ who he was, though; he even mentioned his parents!

And…bloodlust….

"No," he said, and he forgot how to breathe. "N-No, no…."

Overwhelmed with what Slade had said, all of it worse than anything he'd ever threatened in the past, and all of it true, his stomach curdled on that one, vile word. He had known about the feeling that had welled inside of him, he knew he hated that _bastard_ that had ripped that part of his life to shreds, he knew he wanted him dead!-- No, not just for him to die.

He wanted to kill him himself.

"_Blood_…lust…? N-No! NO!"

He screamed then, a newborn pain wrenching at him, and he pulled at his hair wildly, squeezing his eyes shut. He would _NOT _be that which he abhorred the most! He wouldn't hurt someone! But…. Those other people, whom he'd fought before, and those whose property was caught in the crossfire of battle, he had hurt-- "_NO!_"

Slade could die and _still_ be in pain right then. His heart tore at his lungs, and he wanted to scream as Robin had, defeated against all things primeval and malicious. There was nothing to stop this grief that agonized him, but he could only watch as the teen above him gasped and grabbed at the black Kevlar of his shirt, shaking and pale.

"No. No, I'm not-not that! I-I-I _can't_ be!" he burbled, and his eyes were still clamped tight, lashes pressed to lashes.

'_He's been through this before_.'

In the second that realization struck, Slade sat up and grabbed the traumatized youth, one arm almost crushing the small shoulders while the other hung, taut but clinging by the fingers, from the cape. Robin's hands were still balled into the man's shirt, but were being flattened by both of their chests. Slade's own appendages began to hurt inexplicably, but the detail was quickly thrown from his mind for the moment.

"_Don't_," he growled, his speech muffled only slightly by cloth and hair. "Don't go through this. I've been in this place where you're going. _Don't_ go through this!" Robin's body had slumped some, mumbling incoherently, and Slade had to shake him and clutch him tighter to get him to pay attention. "_Stop_, Robin. This is not how you want to live your life. You will only end up hating yourself if you go on in such a dark manner."

"Like I don't already."

"No, actually, you _don't_. Now stop whimpering! I won't tolerate weakness so long as _I'm_ stuck with you," he snarled. He did not want to talk to the hero like this, but it was the only way he knew how. When his unit in the army had started acting distraught like this, he had been trained to deal with them with harsh severity, and if that didn't work, then punishments were given accordingly.

He only hoped that the boy wouldn't decide to push it.

Again, Robin became motionless and quiet, making Slade anxious, but at the same time feeling strangely insulted and misused.

Loosening his fists, the nineteen-year-old gently pushed away from the immortal, and, standing, averted himself and began to walk towards the edge of the trees. For a minute, Slade thought he would try to leave him again. Had he already forgotten about the thing -- a force field, perhaps? -- that had hurt him to keep him there? But, instead, the Titan simply sat down when he was far enough away from his enemy, reached into his pocket, and pulled out his communicator, flicking it open along the way.

"Robin," Slade started, "you should not --"

"I know you don't want me to contact my team," came his own cool voice as he brought out his mask and replaced it over his eyes, "and I don't care."

Raising an eyebrow at his cheekiness, Slade couldn't help but say just as icily, "But do you even know _why_ I don't want you to?"

With silence being his answer, he continued: "If you call the other Titans, then they _will_ come looking for you, despite what you might say to them to the contrary, and that would undoubtedly guarantee them falling into an ambush or a ruse. Basically speaking, you and I are the bait, this area and the scheme behind it are the trap, and your team is the fish to be caught."

At length, Robin asked, "Why would this person -- or, these people -- want my team?"

The villain shook his head in minute exasperation. Wasn't _this very_ _teenager_ supposed to be the one who always thought things through in that group of his? "If they have you and you call your regiment to come and rescue you, then they can seize all of you and then try to get the rest of your little alliance. They could essentially take out the entire world's population of heroes and heroines in five easy steps and a few small phone calls from you to your comrades. It's a simple capture-and-manipulate process. To be honest, I wouldn't even be surprised if your communicator was tapped," he finished, pointing to the fat, yellow-and-black disk for emphasis.

Flashes of remembrance of the Brotherhood of Evil came to Robin, from when he and his friends had been kidnapped and tricked into getting the other Titans across the Earth and beyond to help them, and he knew what the man behind him was talking about. Enraged that such a thing could be happening to them _again_, he almost threw the device from him as if it was hotter than a burning coal. But, as an alternative to losing it once more (for it had taken him quite a while to find it last night after Slade had sent it to the shrubbery), he opted simply to compress it in his palm as he thought of how to resolve the situation.

With a final sigh of resignation, he turned the object over in his hand so that he could stare at the back. He _really_ did not want to rewire the damn thing, but he knew he had no other choice in the matter. It would be a simplistic operation -- made even easier as he was one of the two to have made it, Cyborg being the other -- but it would take several hours and far too much concentration for a single person to complete the task.

'TASK?!_ Pfft. I'd call it an _ORDEAL!_ I mean, do you even have the tools required to do this kind of thing?! This is going to be im_POSS--' began Robin's strange, newly-acquired, third-party state of mind before the teen interrupted it with a silent, well-placed, "Shut up". ('_Ooooh, touché, Robin. I'm _SOOOO_ insulted!_')

Biting the inside of his cheek, he blindly reached into his belt and searched for his mini-kit that held all of his less-than-three-inch-sized paraphernalia. Then, finding it, he pulled out the screw driver and twisted away at one of the four tiny bolts.

Slade watched the adolescent for a moment, then frowned. He didn't _really_ expect to be able to trace the tracker with _those_ outdated gadgets, did he?

Apparently, he did, which the man realized the instant Robin pulled out a miniscule steel wire cutter.

"_Let's_ not," he remarked quickly as he came up behind him and swiped the thing from him like he was a toddler.

Slowly, Robin turned to him with a stony face, the bleakly colored mask giving an edge to his invisible eyes that practically engraved his anger into Slade's skin. "Oh? So I suppose that means that you've got a _better_ idea?"

"_Yes_, in fact, I do," he said. He _tried_ to keep his voice from growling, he truly did, but whether he succeeded on the subject was another story entirely. There was just something about Robin that was pissing him off right then, but he didn't know why.

"And that would be…?"

"That instead of snapping at each other's throats, we could work _together_ and get your slightly-higher-than-normal-tech walkie-talkie to operate _without_ a tracer in it. Does that sound like a plan to you?"

"And why would I want the help of a bandaged-up super-villain who's been trying to kill me for years?" was the smooth retort.

"Because you're clumsy, don't know what you're doing, and I'm the only one here. Besides, I _can_, actually, give you your bindings back: the wound has completely healed over by now and the cloth is boiling my head with the heat and my sweat and it's irritating me more than you _ever_ could." He paused while untying the mottled cloth before adding, "And I've never once tried to kill you. Just teach you how to react quickly in difficult situations and control yourself -- both of which you nevertheless need to work on -- through hard work and minor clashes."

"So _beating me senseless_ and sending me on insanely wild goose chases is your idea of getting me to _better myself?!_" Robin accused, rage flashing in splashes of red on his face as he snatched back the bandages and threw them aside.

"You're not _listening _to me! Those 'insanely wild goose chases' were to get you to think outside of your realm of the norm, and I NEVER beat you. Fought you, yes, debased and corrupted you, perhaps. But I _never_. Beat. You."

Sometime during this altercation, Slade had grabbed hold of Robin's slim shoulders, and was now urging himself not to throttle the boy. But said boy was glaring at the other through silvery-white slits, regardless of his defenseless state. Still, Slade forced his body to calm itself down prior to continuing. Then, getting his face closer to Robin's own, he said, "So, do we work together on this, or do you remain the stubborn brat that you've _always_ been?"

The semi-adult eyed Slade ditheringly. "How can I _possibly_ trust you?" he said, already defeated but trying to keep up a fighting front.

Releasing the heights of his arms, the killer said quietly, "I'm sorry, but you can't. But I'm all that you have left right now, so that's about all you can rely on." His voice liquefied the honest words spoken, making them silky and sounding like a lie.

'_How is that even viable?_' Robin wondered to himself, but he didn't bother to ask, knowing he'd only sound stupid if he did. Then, inaudibly, he said, "Fine. Here," and handed over the disturbingly colored comm, glancing to the ground so he wouldn't have to see the reality of him actually _giving it_ to the greatest antagonist of his life.

**---**

**A.N. 2:**** Is that a good place to stop? Yeah, I think so.**

**But YAYZ!!! AN ACTUAL,**_** NOTICEABLE**_** PLOTLINE!!! XD**

**Anyway, so…I'm not going to explain the "freaking-out-ZOHMYCHUCKNORRIS-I'M-EVIL!-OH-NOEZ!"-thing. Why? Because I don't have to and because I'm Satan! Bwahahahahaha!! But, don't worry: All shall be explained…**_**later!**_** XD MAJOR!BWAHAHAHA!!!**

**Also, I've chosen to do away with the whole "review-or-ELSE"-bait. I'm personally tired of it, and it's not like I'm actually OBEYING MY OWN RULES. Yeah, yeah, I'm a horrible person, I know, but I seem to have the attention span of a squirrel whose life-fluids are actually coffee and candy instead of real blood, which means that I can't seem to keep up a story and go along with it without drifting onto something else. Fun-fun. T_T;**

**I know that this chapter doesn't exactly have a whole helluva lot of Sladin in it, but I'll be sure to put a ton more in the next chapter to come, I promise! Don't know WHEN it's coming, but it'll come, don't worry! KD**

**Oh!-- and ****please go ahead and take my reader poll on my bio page. That would help me to decide which of my (very many) fanfics I should continue with first. Please and thank you! ^_^**


	7. Apologies and Celebrations

**So…I haven't updated this fic in ages, and I suppose I should probably explain why:**

**I hate it.**

**Okay, that's a lie. I actually really liked the idea of this – I still do, in fact. I just hate the way it came out when I first started it way back in 2009. So I've decided something…**

**I'M REWRITING THIS STORY AND BY GOD I'LL MAKE IT WORTHY OF YOUR EYES!**

**To celebrate this awesome-possum news, I would like Y'ALL to help me name it – because I can't very well call it **_**Bound**_** again, now can I? No, too many bad memories of me trying to make it come out epic and instead just letting it fall flat on its face. It deserves better than that. Below is a list of titles that I have already come up with, but if anyone has a better idea, then I would LOVE to hear it! Also, these are listed in no particular order, so don't feel obliged to pick the first one or the sixth one simply because of their number:**

_**1. It's a Jungle Out There**_

_**2. Stuck to You**_

_**3. Bad Connection**_

_**4. Rejected Connection**_

_**5. The Game**_

_**6. Jungle Games**_

**7. Other – do tell.**

**This fic will also have a new summary. It probably won't fit in the description box (as that only gives you 255 characters to work with), so I'm providing y'all with the new summary as follows to aid y'all in your decision-making:**

"_**After a fight in a museum, Slade and Robin awaken to find themselves in a jungle where they are forced to play a game by another's rules: Both must make it out alive or die trying. It's a race against time, an unknown common enemy, and each other. However, there's a catch. If, after one month, the two can't come to terms with each other and their newfound Empathic powers, nor can they find civilization, then it's game over. They lose…in the worst possible way."**_

**Have fun deciding!—and, really, I am SO sorry that this damn story had to be rewritten. Y'all's minds did not deserve the kind of torture that I had typed up and inflicted upon y'all. To think, I thought that I was actually a good writer back then! Cheezus…. *facepalm***


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